


Effects Of Change

by slyther_puff1321



Series: Grandmasters [1]
Category: Dystopian - Fandom
Genre: Dystopian, F/F, F/M, Grandmaster - Freeform, M/M, Social Class, test
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 21:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyther_puff1321/pseuds/slyther_puff1321
Summary: Book 1 in the Grandmasters series.Lara is a princess.  She lives in a society where a single Test determines your future.  Her whole life, she has grown up having everything handed to her.  She expects to be given a long life as queen.  How wrong is she?Atalanta is a craftswoman with an impossible wish.  She wants to be a warrior in a society where women are taught to let the men fight.  Atalanta wants, no, needs this to change.  What lengths will she reach to discover how impossible her wish really is?James is an orphan with a gift.  He has felt out of place his whole life, hated by every official he has seen.  When his gift shows itself, he is given one thing he never has been given before: respect.  But, when his future is in the hands of someone he can't trust or control, how much will it take for him to take back the future he deserves?A lone harpy has one job: to protect.  This has been her life and, despite every request, she faces it alone.  No sister, no parents, maybe even no true friends.  Can she soar higher than the destiny planned for her since birth?One question is on everyone's mind as the stakes rise:How long will it take for me to crumble?





	1. Prologue

The king walked briskly down the marble corridor. He finally stopped in front of a large, stone door. He knocked once, paused, and then knocked twice. There was a click and the door unlocked.

A figure stood in the doorway, draped in black clothing. They were a tall figure with tan skin. “It is wonderful to see you, your majesty.” The voice was commanding and overpowering.

“You as well,” the king’s voice echoed as he stepped into the immense, dark chamber.

“The Test day is coming up soon. I do not believe your daughter is ready.”

The king took a step back and looked the figure in the eyes. “But, Grandmaster! She has trained very hard,” he argued.

The Grandmaster laughed, “Yes, she has. But I believe it is time for the royal lineage to bend. It is time for a new heir.”

“Do you sense it, Grandmaster?”

The Grandmaster gave one nod of the head; yes. “I do. There are going to be changes to the royal rule.”

“That-that is good, correct?” The king uttered in confusion.

“For you, perhaps. For others, specific others, well, I’m not sure they will enjoy their upcoming position. Now, go. I have other matters to attend to.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” The king exited slowly out of the room, wondering what would happen to his beautiful princess.


	2. Lara

Her bright, violet eyes blinked, pushing away welling tears of frustration.

Around her, other children were gathered, taking the last portion of the test: the written portion.

She glanced up quickly to see the timer, chancing a surreptitious glance to see what time was left.

Twelve minutes and thirty-three seconds. She refocused her gaze back down to her test. Four questions left.

Sweat collected in beads on her forehead. I will not fail, I will not fail, she thought, over and over, trying to calm herself.

Suddenly, there came a loud buzzer.

Their time was up.

She frantically circled her last answer, not giving thought to which one, and flipped the packet over.

The enforcers stalked around the room, going from aisle to aisle until they sniffed out all the children still working on their test. Their menacing figures threatened harm in every possible way, so she kept as still as possible.

Suddenly there was a shuffle of papers, a scream, and a gunshot.

A boy who had not yet finished was found. In a flash, they had killed him. She watched the boy slump over in his seat, his glassy eyes staring, unblinking, at the ceiling.

Her blood went cold as she examined his figure. He was handsome, with blonde hair and large grey eyes, all his looks now gone to waste.

Then the overseers began collecting their tests, one by one, and examined them.

When they were done with the individual, they set the test packet in a large black case and told the child their grade.

Their future.

An overseer with cold eyes, tight, thin lips and an even tighter bun strode up to her. She gulped, trying to hide her fear as the overseer took her paper, and one by one, examined her answers.

Finally, she set the packet down in that wretched black case and stood still.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and the words escaped her lips. “What did I get?”

The overseer smiled, a wicked, wicked smile. Her thin lips curved up maliciously, savoring the answer the fearful girl was about to receive.

She didn’t hear anything the overseer said, just saw the word appear on her lips.

Fail.

She didn’t have time to react before the overseer pulled the trigger and the world went black.

 

 

Lara frantically gasped for air and shot straight up in bed, hitting her head on the wall. Heavy breaths escaped her mouth and Lara began to cough.

'It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,' she tried to tell herself. But no matter how many times she tried, it felt all too real.

She shut her eyes, trying desperately to push it out of her mind, but she could still see the boy’s eyes, glossed over with death, no longer with the gift of vision.

Lara shuddered and pulled her knees towards her, curling up in a ball, and rocking back and forth. It was soothing, but it couldn’t make her forget the nightmare.

The truth...or at least, what it could be. Tomorrow, Lara would turn fourteen. She would then, with other fourteen-year-olds, take the Test. The Test...heavens above, the Test.

Every year, those eligible, (fourteen-year-olds), would take the Test. Lara had no idea what it determined, nobody ever did, until it was time to take it. And nobody was allowed to tell them. Lara blinked away welling tears of frustration, trying to drown out her thoughts, but it was no use. It was never of use.

Because somewhere, deep down inside, Lara had always had the feeling that she was going to fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not republish this work anywhere.


	3. Atalanta

Atalanta Dhawan had a wish.

It was no ordinary wish, in fact, Atalanta was sure nobody had the same wish she did.

Because it was ridiculous, and it wasn’t possible. And that’s what she was always told.

Every day, she would walk by the warriors, those who fought for the country, ready for anything that might come. Everyday, she would walk by what she wished she could become.

The only one she has ever had, the only one she was sure that would never come true. For it was forbidden. A woman would never fight in a great war.

But it was a wish, and wishes never fade.

And that was the one thing she wasn’t told.

 

The image of the bright, crescent moon rippled on the lake’s surface, shifting and reshaping as each raindrop distorted the image.

Atalanta never minded the rain. In fact, she liked it, and savored the moment of each individual raindrop that fell from the sky and hit her head, washing away her feelings.

All of them, because the only way to feel something new is to be numb. To have a clean slate.

While everyone hid inside, away from the pounding drops, Atalanta sat on the soaked, muddy grass and let the rain wash her thoughts away.

It was a calming, deep sense of reassurance to sit here and let her thoughts fade away, drip by drip.

Slowly, the rain ceased, and Atalanta was able to see her reflection.

A face with chocolate-brown skin and almond-shaped light brown eyes peered back at her.

Her eyes seemed to whisper words of warning, echoing truth in their dark chambers of depression and longing, longing for things Atalanta knew she could never have.

But her half-smile reflected hope. Her very appearance emanated with it.

And her name, her beautiful name, gushed with it.

Hope for a warrior, for a huntress, for someone who could break the unbreakable, to deny the undeniable, to conquer the unconquerable.

For her name meant fearless warrior, and because of this, Atalanta could not be stopped.

For her force was unbeatable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not republish this work anywhere.


	4. James

James wiped dripping sweat off his forehead and returned to his work. It’s almost over, he thought, it’ll be done soon.

But he knew they were lies.

The false, unattainable hope that had remained with him throughout the duration of the day was unbelievable. Nobody had that kind of hope here.

At the orphanage.

James tried, oh, yes he had tried, to erase those thoughts from his mind, the memories of his dying parents, the memories that told him he was alone, alone and forgotten… but it was impossible.

Hot, unbearable heat radiated from the sun’s rays, burning James’ unprotected back, already beaten and sore from yesterday’s work.

But today’s was even worse.

They were digging, digging a hole deep down into the earth that was soon to be filled with immense amounts of water, but nobody knew why, or to what purpose this would serve; only that the king had ordered it.

And James had a nagging suspicion that someone bigger was behind this, even someone bigger and more powerful than King Pigfarts.

Pigfarts was James’ cruel nickname for the king; he just couldn't help it, the king had so much to do with the miserable occurrences in his life.

But James was not allowed his opinion, so he kept silent, unnoticeable to the rest of the world, until somebody found James and laid all the blame of whatever stupid incident on him.

“Move. Move. Faster! Faster, now!” A woman with a tight bun walked around and James ducked low.

_'Don’t make eye contact. Just keep digging. Dig.'_

The woman walked by and smiled at James’ low back. “This is how it should be,” she whispered. “The poor bowing to the mighty.”

James grimaced, swearing that one day he would make her bow low to him.

He gritted his teeth. He was stronger than he knew, than anybody knew. If he could just…

A powerful force shoved James down the four-foot hole he had created. Before he could look for the culprit, water sprayed his face.

James coughed, and spat the muddy water out.

“There.”

James looked up. It was the same woman, the one with the cold eyes and thin lips, and a tight bun. He scowled.

“Oh, don’t look so mad. I’ve just put you in your rightful place,” she taunted James, waving the large fire-red bucket that he estimated the water had come from.

“Orphans,” she continued, “dirty orphans. They always foil the brightest plans.”

She leaned in to the pit, but not enough to fall, just so she could whisper her malicious words to James, “One day, that will be your biggest mistake.”

James shuddered, but he knew that he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t respond or he'd be whipped. Or worse.

So he stood up and climbed out of the pit.

And dug.

The woman sneered and walked away. She didn’t notice when James flicked her own muddy water back at her. He was curious about her words, he admitted that much to himself, but the words they were always taught, handed down for centuries flickered in his brain like a newly lighted fire:

_Curiosity killed the cat._

James smiled, despite the discouraging reminder, because he knew what most didn’t: the ending to the phrase.

A smile tugged at his lips, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, exploring the reaches of a smile that hadn't been seen for ages. He chuckled, then whispered it to himself.

“...But satisfaction brought it back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not republish this work anywhere.


End file.
